


now everybody's dead

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Codependency, Cunnilingus, F/F, Girl Direction, Gun Violence, Heroin, Major Character Injury, Multiple Orgasms, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, girl!direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Babe, you look so cool," Louis grins and Harry's too high to not kiss her mouth through the fabric of her balaclava. </p><p>or where there's a gun, too many pills, a bunch of money and two stupid idiots in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now everybody's dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be some fucked up stuff. Be prepared for that. 
> 
> I've been thinking about a thieves/robbers au for too long and I decided to put it into action. God help me. 
> 
> Dashes are small jumps in time. Large gaps are large leaps in time. Also, this is girl!direction. 
> 
> May also be triggering for bad, codependent relationships. And gun violence. And drug/alcohol abuse. Nothing about this is good or healthy at all. 
> 
> Title from 'Robbers' by The 1975.

Harry hadn’t intended on letting it get so far. She hadn’t intended on pill popping and drowning herself in alcohol and sex in diner bathrooms.

She had, however, intended on drowning herself in Louis. Louis, with her sinister grins and brilliant ideas and biting wits. She’d drown in Louis forever, if she could.

It’s too bad life has other plans.

Harry meets Louis in a club in July where they do vodka followed by chasers that lead to body shots that lead to sex in the alley out back. They start fast and hard, and by September, Harry’s struggling to survive for a measly few _hours_ without Louis at her side.

Niall calls her pathetic when she dials her up and cries into the phone on the seventeenth, bust she's definitely not. She's just in love. This is what real love's like. 

“It’s only been an hour and a fucking half, Harry.” Niall chastises. “Woman up, you tosser. You’re acting pathetic and I’m sick of it.”

“Niall, I can't—just...I miss her so much.” Harry sobs.

Niall doesn’t understand. She’ll never understand. Harry isn’t pathetic. She’s in a relationship. The best one of her life.

“She’s not good for you, Harry. This proves it to me.” Niall says with a sigh. “You need to cut her out of your life. You’re too dependent on her.”

“I’m dependent because I love her!” Harry shouts as she rolls over on her bed, phone still clutched to her ear.

Louis had left with no explanation other than ‘I’ll be back in a few. Wait up for me, love.’ and Harry is broken without her.

“No,” Niall says back with a scoff, “you’re not. You’re dependent because that’s what your relationship is. Codependency isn’t good for you, H, and you need to realize it.”

“Fuck off, Niall.” Harry responds, wiping at her eyes.

Harry’s relationship with Louis is perfectly healthy.

“You’re just...you’re just jealous because of how much she loves me and I love her.” Harry shouts and then hangs up, sobbing aloud again.

She never wants Louis to leave again.

-

When Louis returns an hour later, Harry latches onto her and bites marks into her neck.

“I missed you, too.” Louis whispers. “I don’t ever want to leave you again.”

“Please don’t.” Harry murmurs into the warm skin of Louis’ neck. “I love you too much.”

“And I love you, Harry.” Louis tilts her head and kisses deep into her mouth.

Harry responds back, situating herself so she’s on top of Louis’ lap, hands tangled in her hair.

“Niall yelled at me today,” Louis murmurs and then lays down so she can unbuckle Harry’s jeans.

Harry grins and helps her by sliding out of them. Her legs are cold in the cool air, but she ignores it and cages Louis in with her arms again.

“For what?” Harry murmurs before she reattaches her mouth to Louis’ neck.

“For fucking you up.” Louis says and then moans when Harry reaches under her shirt to cup her breast. “Something about codependency being wrong or unhealthy or summat.”

Harry hums against the skin of Louis’ throat before reaching down and pulling Louis’ shirt over her head softly.

“Our relationship is the best,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear.

Louis grins and then flips them over, making the breath fly out of Harry’s chest in surprise.

“That it is.” Louis bites her own mark onto Harry’s throat, fingers deftly pulling Harry’s underwear down her legs.

She presses a hard, longing kiss to Harry’s lips before she’s gone and Harry’s legs are being spread. She hooks them over her shoulders before licking along Harry’s folds.

Harry moans at the feeling, fingers tangling in Louis’ hair. Louis is so, so good at this. It’s one of the many reasons Harry loves her.

Louis presses her tongue inside Harry’s fold and then circles it around her clit, relentless. Harry’s fingers tighten in Louis’ hair, close to yanking, and Louis grins, cheeks pressed between Harry’s thighs.

She sucks a mark onto Harry’s thigh before she presses her fingers in, pausing a second before she begins to tongue at Harry’s clit once again.

Harry moans because _fuck,_ is Louis good at this, and then she arches off the bed again, Louis fingers fucking into her and her tongue prodding against her clitoris.

“Fuck, Louis.” Harry moans because she’s super loud in bed, especially when she’s this close to her orgasm.

Louis curls her fingers inside of Harry, lapping relentlessly at Harry’s clit until Harry’s coming with a shout and a hard yank on Louis’ hair.

Harry’s never been in a better relationship.

 

By October, Louis shares her habits with Harry. It starts with a bit of weed here and there, and then pills with names too complex for Harry to recall, and then something in a needle that feels like having sex with Louis for _hours._

“What is this?” Harry asks, the day before Halloween as Louis injects herself.

“Heroin.” Louis leans back, letting the used needle fall to the table.

Harry isn’t as distraught as she’d thought she’d be. She trusts Louis endlessly. If she thinks heroin's alright, then it probably is.

Harry leans back, too, limbs heavy. When she speaks again, her voice is slower than usual, words harder to push out. But she feels good. Sleepy in the best way.

“This is nice,” she whispers, blinking slowly.

She turns her head to press a warm kiss to Louis’ ear, grinning lazily.

“Innit?” Louis murmurs back and it’s the slowest Harry’s ever heard her speak.

Harry’s so glad she got with Louis.

-

When Harry and Louis are forced out with the girls later that day, they’re both still drastically, obliviously high.

Harry keeps her arm corded around Louis’ waist, squeezing her close to her side.

She’s breathing shallowly, almost as if she has forgotten.

“Hey,” Harry grins languidly when she slides into the booth.

Zayn and Liam sit together, cuddled so close together they look like one two-headed person. Like that girl on American Horror Story!

“Hi.” Liam smiles. “We ordered for you.”

Harry’s stomach turns at the thought of food, but she fakes a sleepy smile anyway. She feels tickling on her arm and begins to scratch it absentmindedly. She continues to scratch it through Liam’s one-sided conversation.

“So we decided Zayn’d get artificially inseminated next week.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stares at them in awe. “That’s so exciting!”

“Were you not listening at all?” Zayn snaps. “Either of you?”

“We’re just...just a bit tired, is all.” Louis replies with a noncommittal shrug.

Harry looks down at her arm and sees how red it is. She scratches even harder, concerned with how itchy it is.

 _Is this normal?_ She wonders, but doesn’t ask.

“Tired.” Zayn rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry thanks god she’s too high to care about Zayn’s sarcasm. She pulls Louis half into her lap and settles back, eyes closing shut as her arms fall to her sides in exhaustion.

 

It’s December when Louis first shows Harry the gun.

They’re both doped up on some concoction Louis put together, but Harry’s built enough of a tolerance to be coherent while on it.

“Want to see something?” Louis asks.

They just fucked. Dope sex is the best of Harry’s life.

“Mhmm.” Harry hums.

Louis gets up and she’s beautiful, all naked and golden tan skin. She reaches behind the dresser and pulls it out.

It’s a gun, sleek and black. When Louis hands it to her, there’s an ‘M’ and a ‘P’ engraved near the muzzle. Harry looks at in blissed out shock.

“Smith and Wesson,” Louis informs her.

“‘M&P’?” Harry questions.

“Military and Police.” Louis takes the gun back, holding it carelessly.

She points it at Harry’s chest and laughs. Harry frowns, pushing the muzzle toward the corner of the room.

“It’s not a toy.” She shakes her head. “Don’t point it at me!”

“Come on, H.” Louis giggles. “Loosen up.”

“Is it loaded?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah,” Louis nods with a proud grin plastered to her lips.

She slips the mag out and, as she said, it’s fully loaded.

“Don’t fucking point it at me, then.” Harry snaps.

“Relax,” Louis coos. “I’m not going to pull the trigger.”

She turns it again so it points at Harry, giggling when she pulls back the slide and it shows a round in the chamber.

Harry frowns at her and swallows roughly.

“Fuck off.” She snaps before she pulls on her dress and shoes.

She won’t sit around here waiting to get shot all day.

-

Harry doesn’t make it down the block before Louis is running after her in only her bra and jeans.

“Harry!” She shouts and Harry can hear the slap of her barefeet on the pavement. “I’m sorry. Stop, please.”

“I wasn’t really gonna leave anyway.” Harry turns around and smiles. “I couldn’t.”

“I love you.” Louis whispers and then presses her lips to Harry’s fiercely.

“And I love you.” Harry replies.

They run back to the house where the gun lies on the bed. Harry picks it up and slides the bandana out of her hair. She ties it around her mouth and grins at Louis.

“Give me all your money or you’re dead!” Harry threatens, gun raised.

“Babe,” Louis grins back, hands trailing down Harry’s sides, “you look so cool.”

 

When Harry was a kid, she loved playing Cops And Robbers with the kids next door. She’d always be the robber, running as fast as she could until she tripped and scraped her knee and then someone had to help her walk back.

Some things never change.

It’s late February when they discuss _it_ over cheesecake at the diner on the corner.

Harry’s dressed in barely anything. A shirt that’s more of a bra and a pair of shorts so short that if she was wearing underwear, they would be seen. She loves dressing like this, all free and beautiful. With Louis and her gun, she knows she's safe enough to do so.

Louis wears dark jeans and a shirt that’s as revealing as Harry’s, just differently shaped and patterned.

“I think we should use the gun.” Louis whispers.

“For what?” Harry whispers back.

She’s drunk as fuck. She’d taken too many pills—Addy, maybe? Or they might’ve been Benzos? Harry doesn’t know and she doesn't care—and gotten too drunk to not be up to anything Louis wants to do.

“For money.” She says and there’s the spark, the wildness in her eyes that Harry fell in love with.

“I...I don’t know.” Harry frowns. “Let me think about it.”

“Alright.” Louis smiles, patient as ever.

 

Actually, Louis has never been patient. That's odd, but Harry needs a hit, so she decides she doesn't care.

“I’ve gotta piss.” Harry says with a nod, napkin balled up in her hands.  

She gets up and walks to the bathroom, half-naked in a diner. Ask her if she gives a motherfuck.

She locks the door behind herself and then snorts a line of powder off the counter. She blocks one nostril and takes a deep breath through the other and then sighs at herself in the mirror.

Harry looks like a wreck. A hurricane at its peak.

She unfolds the napkin and pulls out her lipstick, scrawling out words onto it like a piece of paper. She folds it once and then exits the bathroom, leaving behind nothing but the ghost of cocaine and a smudge of red lipstick on the sink.

She sits down across from Louis and passes her the napkin with a blank look, meaning hiding in her eyes.

Louis looks at her, amused, and then opens the napkin. She reads it and then grins, standing up to hug Harry tight.

“This is going to be fucking awesome,” Louis whispers in her ear. “I love you. Let’s fuck in the bathrooms.”

“Fuck yeah.” Harry replies as Louis kisses the underside of her jaw. “And I love you.”

It’s one of the best moments of Harry’s life.

 

 

They plan it out as best as two addicts who barely passed high school can.

The bank on eighth street’s their target. It’s small enough for a heist and the security guard is, like, eighty years old and only carries a revolver, so that's only eight bullets to worry about.

They watch the bank a few days in advance, March rain dampening the edges of their clothes. When they get home, they fuck for hours on the thought of it and then shoot up until they’re blind and ignorant again.

When they wake up from their highs, they call their getaway team.

“We need a ride.” Louis tells Liam into the phone after she puts it on speaker. “My car’s gone to shit again and I have to put this money in the bank.”

Liam sighs, sounding stressed, but then she responds with a smile in her voice.

“Yeah,” she says, “we’ll take you and then bring you back. It’s no problem.”

“We have to be there early. I...wrote a check that’s going to bounce unless I get it in there before it runs through.” Louis is a brilliant liar.

Harry’s going to finger her until all she can do is lie, lie, lie.

“Oh.” Liam says softly. “Well, do you guys just want to come over now? It’ll be easier than swinging all the way ‘cross town.”

“Yeah. We’ll walk.” Louis tells her, grinning so hard it splits her face in half.

“Thanks, Liam!” Harry croons into the phone.

“No problem, H.” Liam replies. “See you in a few.”

She hangs up and Harry kisses Louis until she can’t breath, until all she can do is turn to clay in Harry’s hands, until Harry’s mouth is on her clit and she comes for the fourth time that day.

-

The next morning, Harry and Louis pop Ritalin to stay focused. They eat breakfast with Zayn and Liam, jittery and excited and so thrilled.

Harry’s never felt more alive.

Liam and Zayn drive them to Thames Bank on eighth street and they’re totally, completely oblivious.

It sends a thrill through Harry that their accomplices have no idea they're about to become wanted felons.

She makes out with Louis in the backseat, fingers tugging on the hem of Louis’ bandana until they get there. It’s tied loosely around her neck, vibrantly orange, and it makes everything they’re about to do too real.

When they arrive, Zayn shoots them an impatient and tired look.

She hadn’t been the happiest this morning when Liam woke her at quarter to seven, but she has no idea the thrill they’re about to have, so.

Harry slips out of the backseat, tugging Louis with her.

Louis grins at her, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips before pulling the bandana over her mouth. Harry tugs the balaclava she’d been using as a beanie over his face, concealing her identity.

It itches, so she scratches her nose and kisses Louis again.

 _“Babe, you look so cool.”_   Louis grins as she ties her hair in a bun at the top of her head.

Harry can see the tattoo of her name curling around her ear and she nods, so excited she’s panting.

“I love you.” Harry whispers, tangling her doped up fingers with Louis’.

“And I love you.”

Louis takes off, pulling the gun from her jeans as she does so. Harry runs alongside her, laughing as they burst through the bank doors.

Everyone looks up at them, curiosity burning behind their eyes, and then someone screams and Louis shouts and it’s all a big blur of movement and green, green money and then another scream and three shots and then pain. Another shot rings out and Harry stumbles, hand pressing against her stomach in an attempt to gauge the wound. She can’t feel anything, not the air around her or the blood in her veins or the hole in her tummy.

She looks around, ski mask burning the irritated skin of her nose, and hears Louis’ voice demanding more money, more money, _“more money right now, you fuckers! Or someone else dies!”_.

Harry spins in a circle, lightheaded and sees her Louis, her beautiful, cunning Louis with her sharp wit and killer smile and her drugs. She has lots and lots of drugs and then Harry thinks she’s succeeded.

She hopes her mum is proud of the daughter she'd tossed away.

Then she’s being held, arms wrapped around her waist, and being dragged toward the exit. There’s another gunshot, but it’s closer to Harry, now. She smells the faint trace of gunpowder in the air next to her face as Louis fires over her shoulder again, and again, and again.

They break through the doors and Harry stumbles, landing so hard on the ground the pain jars her. She hears the sound of Louis’ voice, but not the words. She just keeps tumbling, tripping over her own feet as the pain blinds her.

Louis’ hand is pressing into her stomach while the other one holds her up as they manage to get to their innocent getaway gang.

Louis throws open the door and pushes Harry inside, screaming sounds that are probably, most definitely words, but Harry isn’t coherent enough to string the sounds and syllables and letters together.

She stares the ceiling while there’s more screaming and then the roar of an engine. They begin to move and the motion jars Harry hard enough that she’s coherent again. She hears words when Liam shouts at Louis for being “fucking crazy”. She can hear Louis’ terrified screech back and then, softer, Louis’ soft words to her.

“Babe,” Louis presses her lips to Harry’s, tears in her eyes.

She looks worried. She shouldn’t be.

“Hey, stay with me. It’s okay. Please. I love you. Please.” She begs and Harry just stares at her.

She swallows roughly, looking up at the roof of the car. There’s a red handprint stuck there, probably a forever stain. She’ll have to try and clean it when she can feel her legs again. Liam’s going to be upset when she sees it.

“Harry?” Louis draws her attention back with her sobs.

There’s red stuff on her face, the same dark shade as the stain on the ceiling. Harry’ll have to clean her, too.

“H, come on. Please.” Louis shakes her shoulders and Harry blinks up at her.

“Hi,” she whispers and she reaches up to brush her fingers over the tears on Louis’ face.

Her fingers are painted crimson and she leaves a trail of it down Louis’ cheeks.

 _“Babe, you look so cold.”_   She says, worried, and Harry’s eyes shut involuntarily when she nods.

She is cold, shivering even.

“Harry!” She cries, but everything’s dark and the pain’s fading and _why is it so fucking cold?_

Harry squeezes Louis’ leg with the last of her strength and then she fades away, feeling frostbitten and dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to remind those of you who need it again: THIS IS NOT 'GOALS'. Bank robbery is a v bad thing and so are drugs and gun violence and alcohol and pretty much this entire thing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, though. Comments and kudos are endlessly appreciated x


End file.
